


Of Human Bondage

by Gunderpants



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 01:25:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2489312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gunderpants/pseuds/Gunderpants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape is mildly put out when he has to lose a weekend to a mandatory professional development workshop at Hogwarts. When he is forced to work in a group with the two teachers he loathes most, he must put aside his bitterness and rage in order to get through the challenge unscathed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Human Bondage

If Severus Snape was really pressed for a list of _things he would never choose to endure, even under pain of death_ , it would be extensive and exhaustive. Supervisory duties at a school ball would come in the top ten. Knitting that Potter boy a matching sweater so they could dress as twins would come in the top five.

A beautiful September weekend spent on continuing professional development would certainly finish in the number two spot.

He was sure his own professors never had to submit themselves to this politically-correct pablum: _back in the good old days,_ he often thought to himself, _professors could get on with the hallowed art of imparting their knowledge of the magical arts upon an audience of apt, eager young pupils who certainly never misbehaved the way this current rabble did._ (This, of course, was wishful thinking on his part: there had been no golden age of student behaviour or teacher authority, not even in a domain so esoteric and arcane as Hogwarts, as Albus Dumbledore liked to remind him of often.) But nevertheless, his employer saw differently: for a man who helmed a school with one of the poorest occupational health and safety profiles in Britain, with what could only be described as 'lenient and encouraging' human resource practices, Albus Dumbledore was a fiend for ensuring his staff were life-long learners.

And so here he was, sitting with a look that could curdle milk on his face, staring sourly outside at the beautiful, dappled morning light that fell across the lawns. (It is truthful, yes, that he would probably not have gone outside anyway, but he liked to think he could if he wanted to). The other teachers on staff seemed equally reticent to proceed ahead with events: Minerva McGonagall sipped tea through lips pursed so tight Severus wondered how she was ever able to drink in the first place, and every so often, he caught Rubeus Hagrid wistfully staring outside in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

The only people in the room who looked remotely pleased to be there were Dumbledore himself and the presenter of their workshop: a tall, beefy, jolly-looking man with curly black sideburns who was sweating profusely in what looked like stiflingly hot synthetic robes. The two men chatted easily up the front, Dumbledore occasionally chuckling indulgently at the other man's jokes. And as the minute hand of the clock in the main staff room landed upon the twelve, the doors flew shut, as if pulled closed by invisible hands.

"Delightful," Dumbledore muttered to himself. "Well, I shan't hold Richard up any further - most of you, Remus excepted, will remember working with him back in '89 when he took Defence Against the Dark Arts."

An unenthusiastic murmur buzzed in the room. Indeed, Severus struggled to even remember Richard Rigby's teaching: nobody had died or been seriously maimed while he taught, and he was no ministry stooge, failed Death Eater wannabe or former childhood enemy, and as such he had no need to get to know him, save for professional envy. His exit had been the least notable in his time at the school: he'd been offered higher rates as a private consultant, and took up the new job with little fanfare or lamentation from his students.

"Rick, Albus. Let's keep things nice and casual - we're all peers and friends on our journey to being better teachers."

"But of course. And, as you'll all know, Rick is indeed a great font of wisdom for us - to my knowledge, the only wizard to go onto Muggle university to study pedagogy and educational psychology."

Words like 'pedagogy' were somewhat of a red flag for Severus: in twelve years of teaching, he'd kept his own approach to the matter simple: _make them cry less than you did last term, maybe, if you can bear it,_ and _don't do that thing where you left the Weasley twins unattended in your office ever again_. 

Behind him, he could hear a chair squeaking, as if its owner were rocking forward furiously in it. "Filius, you have a question?"

"I am interested to know how teaching Muggle kids is remotely comparable to teaching our lot," Flitwick squeaked, folding his arms and ceasing his rocking. "Because to me, it would seem there would be obvious differences."

Rigby's collar got soaked with sweat even more, greasy trickles of moisture streaming down his neck. "Why don't we field questions at the end, right? We have a big program for the workshop today, and I'll want to get you in groups to make a start very soon."

_Groups._

There would be _group work._

This would not end well for anybody.

Right that second, Snape was silently cursing _everyone_ in the room: Dumbledore, for making them undertake this ridiculous mental torture; Hagrid, for blocking his only view out the windows; and certainly this puffed up, over educated windbag who threatened to damn him to seven interminable hours of staff bonding and obfuscating jargon.

"Now," said Rigby, clapping his hands together in what was meant to look like a decisive and commanding gesture, "I believe effective professors don't need to know a single skerrick of knowledge about their field. One could be the most notable name in one's field and still not be an effective teacher if your children cannot trust that you love them."

Someone in the room made an annoyed sighing sound, and Severus had to check for a second that it wasn't him who made the noise. He craned his neck around: McGonagall's brows were almost hidden under her hair, so incredulous was her expression. Septima Vector was tapping the end of a quill against her desk, her leg jiggling furiously. His colleagues looked as enthralled as he felt. Only two looked vaguely interested: Dumbledore, who looked like he'd just heard the most profound message he'd ever encountered in his life, and Remus Lupin, who was leaning forward, showing clear signs of polite attentiveness.

 _Of course that unctuous toad would be sliming up to this fraud,_ Severus thought to himself. _I bet he would start classes with a hand-holding circle, wishing for Voldemort to have a change of heart and feel badly for his actions._ And - as though his thoughts had willed it to fruition, Lupin's hand shot up in the air, and for a moment Severus imagined Hermione Granger in his place.

"I think this is a very interesting concept. I mean, I've only taught for a week or so now, so everything is quite new to me. What do you think is the most important factor in teacher success?" 

_Suck._

"It's all about knowing the people you work with - not just your students, and their many wonderful skills and abilities, but your colleagues." 

Severus didn't even bother to throw his hand up. "And if they have no wonderful skills and abilities?" 

"I believe every child has wonderful skills and abilities, Severus--" 

"I was speaking about my colleagues, obviously," he said, shooting a look in Lupin's direction. Lupin ignored the stare pointedly, and kept looking straight ahead as though Snape didn't exist. 

"Yes, well. But back to what I was saying. With our young ones, I firmly believe every child starts on 100% in the classroom - and the successful professor is one who works to keep them at this level." 

This prompted a very muted - yet nevertheless anxious - outpouring of murmurs. "Surely it would make more sense to view it the other way around," McGonagall said, the frown still frozen on her brow, "where students start with nothing and then as they develop mastery over the material they _earn_ marks?" 

"Yes, but that way may run the risk of damaging their self-esteem," Rigby said, beaming. "And surely, we care for the feelings of our children?" 

The room fell silent. Severus' jaw was agape; he was reasonably comfortable in assuming he was not alone in this. McGonagall pressed on, not dissuaded by the seeming ridiculousness of his statements: "their _what??_ " 

"Now, now," boomed Rigby, who started to pace through the room, "I know the wizarding world is several years - ahem, decades - behind the Muggle world in terms of educational developments, but surely you know the meaning of self-esteem?" 

"It's not that we don't know what it means," piped up Pomona Sprout, her arms folded and her short, fat legs swinging from the chair without touching the ground, "it's that we disagree that it is a relevant factor." 

Rigby looked deeply flustered. "Right. Well, we could really chat about this all day, but I do want to set people off on their self-directed inquiry-based project." 

"Their... could you speak English, son?" 

Rigby sighed. "Albus and I have spoken, and I recommended that we all break up into groups for you to complete various learning objectives about professional practice and engagement in--" 

"It's like an obstacle course," Dumbledore interrupted helpfully. "Along the way, you'll have tasks to complete which can only be accomplished by groups of three. They are designed so that you learn to treat each other - and eventually your pupils - with a greater degree of professionalism and civility." He looked perfectly mild and equanimous as he said this, and yet Severus felt he was aiming this squarely at him. "You've a question, Severus?" 

"Headmaster, I regrettably have a pile of four-foot long essays to return to my sixth years on Monday; how long will this take?" 

Dumbledore smiled. "Oh, as long as it needs to, obviously." 

"Meaning?" 

"The enchantments on each of the activity stations are designed to hold the groups in place until they have successfully accomplished the outcomes of the learnings," Rigby said, looking more pleased with himself than any many who would use the word 'learnings' as a noun should. "So you could be done in an hour, or done in a week. Now, that's what we might call 'extrinsic motivation'. And, on that subject, I believe Professor Dumbledore offered to put on a tab down at the Three Broomsticks for all staff upon completing the course?" 

This time, the murmur sounded slightly more positive than it had before. Severus looked around the room - already, he could see his colleagues make pointed eye contact at each other. (It goes without saying that amongst many social lessons the man had missed while younger, being chosen for groups was one that had caused him the greatest degree of grief.) Flitwick, McGonagall and Sprout had pulled their chairs together conspiratorially, whispering and scheming. On the other side of the room, Hagrid, Madam Hooch and Charity Burbage huddled together, Hagrid easily towering over the two women. 

Severus stood, moving as quickly as he could towards Aurora Sinistra, who stood on her own, and had that oafish cretin Hagrid not pushed his chair back and into his path, he might have made it in time to beat Vector or Binns to join the group. 

_Shit._

He looked around, his heart leaping for a moment. "Headmaster, there is nobody for me to work with. It looks like I will need to return to my marking. A terrible shame, truly." 

"Ah," said Dumbledore, a malevolent glint in his eye, "but you are wrong. There are teachers without a group, and I am sure you will benefit immensely from working with them." 

"Who are-- no. Not a chance in hell." 

"I think you'll find the odds are much better than that," Dumbledore calmly said, indicating to a chair by the window, where - staring outside, a vacant look in eyes covered with frizzy long hair - Sybill Trelawney sat dreamily. 

"You cannot expect that I would work with that woo-peddler," he said, a sneer forming on his face. 

"Oh, yes, I am sure of it. I am sure the three of you will get along well. In fact, I couldn't imagine a more appropriate group if I'd deliberately chosen you all myself." 

"Three..." 

The word froze in his throat, and with a look of abject terror, Severus turned to find the one remaining Hogwarts teacher not yet in a group, chatting animatedly to Rigby. And as Remus Lupin turned to find everyone but himself allocated into groups, Severus realised that his day was bound to get worse in every way imaginable. 


End file.
